


I Really (Don’t) Know What I Want

by Bella_Dahlia



Series: The Other Side of Love [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Breaking up is hard to do, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, High School is the Worst, M/M, Or Is It?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parents are also the worst, Past Relationship(s), Sometimes we do regular things, White Wyrm is a dive, but it’s OUR dive, like go to a dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella_Dahlia/pseuds/Bella_Dahlia
Summary: There were many potential disasters to befall an average weirdo high school student; when one had an active imagination and a love for John Hughes films, as Jughead Jones did, you sort of assumed you had foresaw the possibilities. Plus, after solving a sordid murder and joining a gang, he really thought he gone through his fair share of teenaged trauma.Having to fake a relationship to save his best friend from dedicating his life to a mafia and getting punched repeatedly in the process definitely had not crossed his mind before now.——————————————Or, Jughead and Veronica don’t really know what they’ve gotten themselves into.





	1. Fall Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, gentle reader! I know it’s been a while since we’ve met—I had a couple of false starts on this one, and I wanted to make sure I had a solid path forward before beginning the ride. 
> 
> This chapter may feel like a hefty amount of exposition, but we have to lay some track for them to be able to go places, am I right?
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated! And welcome back to our wacky little world!
> 
> PS—thanks to Beck’s album Colors for providing inspiration and my titles.

There were many potential disasters to befall an average weirdo high school student; when one had an active imagination and a love for John Hughes films, as Jughead Jones did, you sort of assumed you had foresaw the possibilities. Plus, after solving a sordid murder and joining a gang, he really thought he gone through his fair share of teenaged trauma.

Having to fake a relationship to save his best friend from dedicating his life to a mafia and getting punched repeatedly in the process definitely had not crossed his mind before now.

The sound of the alarm on his phone slowly drilled into Jughead’s brain, forcing him into a foggy state of barely awake. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but he was certain it hadn’t happened very long ago, because his room had been growing brighter with the sunrise last time he looked. He instinctively rolled over to grab his phone and groaned when the left side of his face hit the pillow. He sat up in bed, raking a hand through his hair and breathing slowly as he waited for the throbbing to subside. He did not look forward to shaving this morning.

Jughead blinked, attempting to will away his groggy state as he opened up his phone. A message from Veronica blinked up, sent only a few minutes before.

**V says: There’s only five weeks left of school, we definitely should both catch Mono and just skip to the end**

Despite everything weighing on him, Jughead felt a lopsided grin tugging at the uninjured side of his mouth. He could definitely appreciate deflecting panic with humor.

**Jughead says: We can Rock Paper Scissors who makes out with Dilton Doily in order to contract the virus, but I should warn you, I don’t lose**

**V says: ...let’s just steal it from the CDC instead, kay?**

**Jughead says: weak, Lodge. Weeeeeeaaaak**

With a heavy sigh, Jughead pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to get ready for school. After his shower, staring at himself in the mirror, he did briefly consider staying home. Though the swelling wasn’t too bad, the entire left side of his jaw was a kaleidoscope of color, from a harsh purple to a sickly yellow, and there was a low, constant ache accompanying it. But he thought back to his phone sitting on his dresser, and he knew he couldn’t leave Veronica to fend for herself.

Jughead had hoped his father would still be asleep when he tried to leave for school, but FP sat at the tiny kitchen table, draining a cup of coffee, already in his Pop’s uniform. His eyes widened slightly at his son’s appearance, but he remained seated.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who had a rough night,” FP said, his voice a rumble.

Jughead shrugged noncommittally, rifling through the cabinets and pulling out a pack of Pop-Tarts and a bottle of aspirin. “Only one side of my face had a rough night. The rest of me did pretty alright.”

FP snorted and stood to put his mug in the sink. “Was this something that needs attending to?” he asked, pinning his son with a hard stare. “Did the Ghoulies at school start shit again?”

Jughead opened his mouth to reply, completely ready to use them as a convenient excuse to not get into it with his dad, but then clapped his mouth shut. His father looked at him with such clear concern, not clouded by a week’s worth of booze, that he couldn’t bring himself to lie.

“It was Archie,” he said, and he felt a sudden strong burning behind his eyes. He blinked rapidly and looked down, fiddling with the silvered package of pastry in his hands. “Let’s just say I’m off the Christmas card list.”

“Archie?” FP repeated, floored. “What—“

“I’m told he had a fairly befitting if overly brutal response to finding your best friend and your girlfriend making out,” Jughead cut in quickly. He shoved his breakfast into the messenger bag, and dry swallowed a couple of pills before adding the bottle to his bag as well. “I gotta go, I’m gonna be late for school.”

“Now wait a minute here.” FP grabbed him by one shoulder, forcing his son to look at him. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that on your old man and split. You and the Lodge girl? What about Betty?”

Jughead sighed wearily. His mind drifted back to the previous night, and the conversation they had in front of Betty’s front door. He expected a sharp, crippling pain to accompany it, but it was only a dull ache that matched the one in his face. “Betty and I have been done for a long time, Dad, we just didn’t admit it to each other until last night.”

FP nodded in understanding. “Still, stepping out with Veronica... she better be worth it, Son.”

A warmth bloomed in Jughead’s chest—it was wrapped in anxiety and trepidation, but existed all the same, undeniable when he thought of her now. “She is, Dad,” he said. The sincerity of the statement shone out and FP nodded once more.

“Jesus but you know how to pick ‘em,” FP said with a humorless laugh. “Be careful at school. You only have a few weeks left, try to make sure you actually finish them.”

Jughead shot off a quick salute. “Flip those burgers like you mean it,” he replied, before heading out.

He crammed half a Pop-Tart into his mouth and carefully stowed his beanie into his bag before mounting the bike. He considered trying to ease his helmet over his jaw, then reluctantly acknowledged the absurdity of the idea and kept it secured in the mesh travel net instead. As he rode to school, his conversation with Betty invaded his brain again.

She had shown a proper amount of concern about his face, but still only joined him outside, didn’t invite him in the house. He wasn’t ever invited into the Cooper residence these days. Betty tried to pull him into an embrace but he resisted, staring down at the potted plants that lined the front steps.

“Why did you stay with me?” he asked. “That first night at the trailer... why did you?”

“I—what do you mean, Juggie?” 

“It wasn’t because you loved me.” He deliberately paused, waiting for some kind of protest, but her moment of hesitation fell down between them like a hammer. He closed his eyes, hearing her words start to come but not really listening to any of them.

“That night, I called you after you went home,” he cut in. “I told you I loved you, and you blew me off. The next morning you made excuses about your crazy family, and I get that better than most, but I decided I wouldn’t say I love you again until you said it to me.” Jughead finally looked up at her, and recognized the distant sadness in her clear green eyes. “That’s why I haven’t said it in four months, Betts. Not once.”

She sighed, a breathy, delicate sound as she looked anywhere but his face. “I know,” she said, almost a whisper. “I wanted to... the words always got stuck. With everything going on, it didn’t feel right—“

“Don’t use your family as an excuse anymore,” he said. He wanted to be angry, but truthfully he was just exhausted by it. “You kept telling me that you could handle my darkness and my problems. Betty, you never even gave me the _option_ to help you with yours. You got back together with me just to hold me at arms length. And I’m done.”

“Y-You’re right—you’re right about all of it, I have been so overwhelmed with everything but I can be better, we can be better,” Betty stammered, reaching out to grasp both of his hands with her own. Jughead allowed their fingers to interlock for a moment, filing away the warmth of them as a last good memory, before delivering the final blow.

“Veronica and I—we’ve been seeing each other,” he said slowly, watching Betty’s face. He expected pain, or disbelief, or some level of woman scorned fury, but what he actually detected beyond her surprise was relief.

That was the moment Jughead finally became angry. 

“Y’know what the crazy part is? We’ve been sneaking around to talk to each other, and listen, and be supportive—the sex part, that came later, and it _means_ something, which is more than I can say for us,” he snapped. The lie danced off his tongue easily, far easier than he anticipated, and it had the desired result; Betty flinched, a ripple of pain finally running across her face before she bowed her head. Her loose blonde hair fell down, shrouding her like a curtain.

There was a time that hair inspired dozens of metaphors, hundreds of words all recorded in Jughead’s manuscript. Not anymore.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Jughead couldn’t decide if he appreciated Betty not denying the state of their relationship or if he hated her for it. 

“How could you be aware of just how broken we were and allow our relationship to just limp along?” he finally asked.

Betty looked at him, the ghost of a sad smile crossing her lips. “Why did you?” She sighed. “You’re my first love, Jug... It’s harder to let go of than I thought.” She looked away, down the street to some undefined point, tucking her loose hair behind her ears. She closed her eyes against the evening breeze, and he saw a single slow tear roll down her cheek. “I was selfish, trying to hold onto everything. We’re not the same people we were.” She opened her eyes again, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read. “I mean—I never thought you would be capable of doing this to Archie.”

It felt like getting punched in the face again. Jughead exhaled a breath, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “He didn’t have any problems doing it to me,” he replied pointedly. His satisfaction with her surprise felt distinctly hollow. “There’s no moral high ground for any of the four of us, Betty. You should probably go check on him, though, if my face is any indication, his knuckles are bruised to shit.”

He didn’t wait to hear her reply.

Jughead pulled into the student parking lot of Riverdale High, taking an extra moment on his bike to rifle through his bag and inhale the rest of his breakfast. By the time he swung off of the motorcycle, he caught sight of Veronica closing distance. Her ensemble was on point, not a hair out of place, but he recognized the shadows under her eyes despite her well applied concealer. He wasn’t the only one running on lack of sleep. As she came up beside him he finally noticed the two coffee cups in her hands, and felt such a burst of affection for her he had to resist the urge to kiss her in thanks.

Of all of the pieces he obsessed over during his mostly sleepless night, he had not even begun to unpack the complicated nature of the situation and his actual feelings for Veronica. That debate would have to wait. And they had previously agreed it would be logical for PDA to be kept on the back burner at school, given the explosive nature of their respective break ups, so the instinct was quickly squashed.

“Ugh, it’s like you see straight into my soul, I don’t deserve you,” Jughead declared instead, gratefully accepting the to-go cup and taking a long drink of black coffee.

Veronica’s face fell as she got a good look at his jaw, her brown eyes becoming glassy with emotion. “You don’t deserve this,” she said. “God, why did you agree to this, what are we doing?”

“Hey, hey—this—“ Jughead gestured vaguely to his face. “Is no big deal. This is just us finding Pantone’s next Color of the Year. If you’re nice to me, I might even let you name it.”

A hint of a smile came to Veronica’s lips, and it seemed the water works were successfully held at bay. “I’m always nice to you, Jones.”

“Then clearly you need to upgrade from nice to charmingly endearing if you want to secure naming rights.” 

They fell in step together slowly, taking their time heading up towards the school.

“How did the rest of your night go?” she asked softly.

Jughead let out a non-committal grunt. “About as well as can be expected, I guess,” he admitted. “We basically acknowledged we were a couple in name only and it was time to be done.” He adjusted the strap of his messenger bag against his chest. “It might have been said in slightly less adult terms than that though. What about you?”

Veronica took a drink of her coffee, a classic stalling technique. “To be continued,” she finally said. “I... really don’t know.”

They paused at the top of the steps leading into the school, and Jughead took the opportunity to meet her gaze. “Do you want me to come home with you after school?” he asked. “You don’t have to face your father alone.”

“How about we just try to make through an entire day of school, before even thinking of tackling Daddy,” Veronica replied. She tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash, before looking up at him with a soft, warm smile; the one she only broke out for rare occasions and few people. “But for the record, White Knight looks good on you.”

Despite all his best efforts, Jughead couldn’t stop the pleasant flip his stomach did as he watched her enter the school. The smile stayed burned in his brain, a pleasant distraction to block out the regular annoyances of the halls. He remained preoccupied with it through his entire journey to first period chemistry, and didn’t even notice Toni joining him at their lab table until he heard her whistle.

“Daaaaaamn, Jones, who put your face in a meat grinder?”

Jughead blinked, bringing his focus back to the classroom. Toni’s tone had been casual, but real concern flickered in her eyes. He took a steadying breath, knowing this first test of spreading disinformation would also be the hardest, in some ways. Toni was his friend, with no real ties to Betty or Archie, so he didn’t need to worry about blow back, but she had an uncanny ability to cut through bullshit. He figured if he could sell it to her, it could be sold to anyone.

“It may in fact be a dirty lie that Archie Andrews paints on his abs, if the muscles in his right arm are any indication,” Jughead said, busying himself with pulling out his textbook. 

“Dude—you did not—shut up—you did _not_!”

“Since I didn’t admit to any actions, what exactly do you want me to deny right now?”

Toni smacked his arm with the back of her hand, a triumphant smirk on her lips. “You got together with Lodge, duh. Violating Bros Before Hoes is your all too classic instigator for dude on dude violence.” She tilted her head inquiringly. “Buuuuut, when did you break up with Betty and why didn’t you tell me?”

He didn’t have to do any acting to conjure up the flush in his face. He studiously avoided Toni’s, pulling out his notebook and becoming engrossed in flipping through his handwritten scrawls.

“Shut. Up.”

“I still didn’t say anything.”

“Jones, I am a walking judgement free zone, but this high school is not.” Toni put one of her hands in front of his notebook, snapping her fingers at him. With an eye roll, Jughead reluctantly looked up at her, and registered the gentle concern in her expression. “I’m just sayin’, this is risking a lot for a good bang—“

“It’s not about the sex,” Jughead cut in, keeping his voice low. “Veronica and I—we’re together now. It’s a real thing.”

He unconsciously held his breath as he watched Toni study his face, waiting for the moment when she would shake her head in disbelief and ask for a new story. Instead, she nodded slowly.

“Good,” she finally said, turning to sit straight on her stool. “If you’re gonna ruin my chances with her, it better be for something serious.”

“Toni, I don’t think you really—“

She held up a hand and pinned him in place with a well practiced stare. “Do not fall into a pathetic cis-het pothole, friend, I _will_ call your ass out for bi-erasure.”

Jughead held up his hands in a quick surrender. “I withdraw the comment, and humbly acknowledge that Veronica and I have not expressly discussed her sexual spectrum.” After getting an approving nod from Toni, he leaned in a little closer, seeing the teacher preparing for roll call. “Also, uh, if you don’t mind—I know you have Spanish with her next, and...”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” Toni assured him, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “We all will. She’s Serpent Friendly, we’re not gonna forget it.”

Jughead nodded his thanks as the bell sounded the beginning of the school day. Veronica may have been in the center of drama hurricanes in the past, but by deciding on the narrative to leave Archie for Jughead, she had guaranteed herself an upgrade straight to social pariah. He wasn’t sure if she had a proper understanding of what that would look like. They didn’t have any classes together until the afternoon, so their next real opportunity to see each other was lunch. It was reassuring to know someone else would be looking out for her.

The next few hours passed in relative peace. Archie never showed up in third period French, releasing some of the tension Jughead had been carrying in the morning. By the time the bell rang signaling the end of his fourth period and the beginning of lunch, he realized the worst of it may not hit until several days later—he couldn’t decide it that was a good or bad thing.

He exited the classroom with his headphones already on, his hand digging his phone out of his bag, when he spotted Veronica waiting for him directly across the hall. His brow furrowed in concern and he pulled his headphones to sit down around his neck as he fought through the throng of students. She had Chemistry last period, in a completely different wing of the school, the only way for her to be waiting for him in the arts hall would be for her to ditch class early.

“I thought we were meeting out by the bleachers for lunch,” Jughead said in lieu of a greeting, his voice pitched low to be simultaneously quiet but heard. Half the student body was heading to lunch while the other half reluctantly came back from it, making the halls especially loud.

“I thought maybe you knew of a place with a better guarantee of solitude,” Veronica replied. Her voice held it’s usual chirpy casualness, but he saw the tension thrumming through her, from the white knuckle grip she had on her textbooks to the way her shoulders were bunched up against her neck. Her dark eyes flicked at lightning speed from student to student, as if she was trying to assess which ones were taking about her all at once.

Jughead felt an distant ache that had nothing to do with his face, and longed to know how to melt the anxiety from her features. As close as they had become, pieces of Veronica continued to allude him, and as the depth of his caring for her grew, so did his frustration with the parts of her that felt just out of reach.

For this moment, Jughead settled with a nod and taking her free hand in his, lacing their fingers together before leading her through the crowd. Hand holding was a statement in this school, but it had to begin sometime, and he didn’t want to accidentally lose her. His long gait could be challenging for her to keep up with given her choice of footwear; holding onto her reminded him to slow down.

Silently he led her toward the wing of the school that held the gym, and the janitor’s closet that had briefly been his home the year before. It was stuffed under a staircase in a part of the school that had few classes around lunchtime, which made it an ideal hiding spot. They rounded a corner, their destination at hand, and Jughead nearly rammed head first into Cheryl Blossom.

He stopped short with a squeal of his boots on the waxed floor, Veronica knocking into him as she was pulled off balance. He tightened his grip on her, and his free hand shot out, steadying her instinctively. He saw Cheryl visually consuming their body language, and prepared for her worst verbal venom.

“So. The gossip mill spills another pathetic truth on us.” Cheryl sounded almost bored. 

“Cheryl, I am beyond not in the mood,” Veronica growled. 

“Look, I can’t pretend to understand why you would dump Archiekins—I would be loathe to give up someone that was whipped to my every whim.” Cheryl’s gaze turned specifically to Jughead and he resisted the urge to shudder. “But—And this is strictly off the record, and will be completely denied in all public settings—you could do worse that Dudley Doright here.”

Jughead blinked. “Uh.. thanks? I think?”

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “Don’t thank me yet, HP Lovesucker, you’re also the one who broke my sweet Cousin Cooper. You’re still on my shit list. Now go suck face in peace while I pretend this conversation never took place. Toodles, underlings.”

As the redhead strut away towards the cafeteria, Jughead watched her with narrowed eyes. “That is such a ridiculous double standard, it takes two to cheat.”

“You know it’s best to not question the logic of the insane, Jug,” Veronica said. The sensation of her thumb gently rubbing against the side of his hand brought his attention back to her, and he nodded.

“Besides, I think that’s probably the warmest response I’ve gotten all day,” she added grimly.

Jughead sighed, adjusting his beanie with his free hand as he led them to the closet door. “I’m sorry, Ronnie,” he said. “I’m not sure if we thought this completely through, you’re losing friends too.”

“Jughead—you’re my best friend.” The words landed with weight, causing him to pause with his hand on the doorknob. He knew he should feel any range of emotions: pride, warmth, a pleased recognition. And those things did exist, somewhere. But they were overshadowed by a hollowness, a bitterness that he had to swallow back before he could turn to look at her again.

It was true, she was the best friend he had too. He had tried having a relationship with someone that important in his life, and he was still in the middle of the agony that it had caused. He couldn’t risk it again. Whatever he might be feeling for Veronica, he couldn’t really act on it. He knew it, but he also mourned for what could have been. 

Even with the warmth of her fingers linked with his, taunting him with memories of running through his hair and raking down his bare back, Jughead looked at Veronica with his best friendly smile. “You’re mine too, jerk,” he assured her.


	2. Retreat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, gentle reader! Sincerest apologies for not being as swift as I would like, but I started a new real person job this week, which has been most troublesome. On the plus side, my chapters do seem to be growing longer?
> 
> As always, thank you for the feedback, it is always appreciated!

The rest of the school week turned out to be strangely bearable. With Cheryl not declaring an all out war on Veronica and Jughead’s relationship, the drama turned out to be more of a series of frosty receptions than anything else. Reggie Mantle, in his thug headed glory, attempted to start some shit in the student lounge on Thursday that turned into half the football team and the entire Riverdale faction of the Serpents squaring off before Archie literally stepped in between them.

“Dudes—just—don’t.” Archie’s voice had such a strong, uncharacteristically cold tenor to it that Reggie relaxed his stance immediately. Jughead used the opportunity to break through the meathead ranks, pushing past to stand next to Veronica who had gotten cornered. For just a moment, as fleeting as it was, Jughead and Archie met gazes and had a brief understanding. There were worlds of hurt between them, but they agreed on not wanting to put Veronica through more.

Then Veronica took hold of one of Jughead’s hands with both of hers, gripping him as though she thought he might disappear. Archie took in the move and his brown eyes shuddered, his whole expression shutting down before he turned and left the lounge.

After that, Veronica agreed the student lounge was a place to avoid for the remainder of the year.

Jughead stood in his trailer’s kitchen, waiting for the pot of water to boil. Toni had texted, insisting he come by the Wyrm and bring Veronica along, a safe space to hang out in public, but he declined. Veronica’s father had been out of town all week on business, coming back from New York while they were still in school that day. She knew she had to spend her Friday night finally having it out with her dad about the breakup with Archie, and while she insisted on doing it alone, Jughead couldn’t shake the feeling it was a bad idea.

The tell tale sound of water bubbling filled the room, and Jughead promptly dumped two packages of ramen in simultaneously. He exited the kitchen, shaking the crunchy spare bits of noodle from the bags directly into his mouth. He turned on the TV, ready to begin a rewatch of the first season of Stranger Things when he felt his phone buzzing in his back pocket. It wasn’t the quick double buzz of a text message but the prolonged trill of a call coming in. When he pulled it out, he registered Veronica’s name with surprise. They never talked on the phone, her preferred mode of digital conversation always being text.

“Ronnie, what’s wrong?” Jughead said in way of greeting. He hoped he was wrong, he was desperate to hear a sarcastic comeback to quell his fears, but what he heard instead was a delicate hitch of breath.

“Would you be available to come pick me up?” she said. She spoke in a slow, soft tone, one that almost but not quite hid the tremble in her voice. 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Jughead ran back to the kitchen, flipping off the burner of the stove before yanking the keys to the pickup truck from off the hook by the door.

“Jug, it’s at least a fifteen minute—“

“I said I’ll see you in ten,” he cut in, his tone firm. He didn’t wait for another response, hanging up and grabbing his leather jacket at the same time. He held the truck keys between his teeth, yanking the jacket on as he sped down the steps.

If Hiram Lodge raised a hand to his daughter, he was going to lose that fucker at the wrist.

Jughead pulled into the Pembrooke parking lot with a squeal and smoke from the trucks’ tires. The bike would have been faster, but he didn’t have a spare motorcycle helmet. He killed the engine and pocketed the keys, checking his phone as he exited the truck. It had taken him twelve minutes. He cursed under his breath and broke into a run to get into the building.

The Pembrooke’s elevator was astonishing slow for being so new, and Jughead resisted the urge to beat against the control panel. His writer’s imagination had gone into overdrive, all his worst fears about Hiram Lodge manifesting in a cascade. He imagined a battle zone, broken glass and loose pearls rolling on the hardwood floor. He imagined impassioned tears and hearing Hiram screaming from the elevator. 

So he was admittedly a little caught off guard by Hermione Lodge’s seemingly warm greeting.

“Jughead, it’s been some time.” Hermione had a glass of wine in one hand and a small smile on her face, and she stepped back to open the door wider. “You’re picking up Veronica, I assume?”

“I, uh—Yes.” Jughead swallowed, feeling incredibly small as he realized the ridiculousness of how badly his mind had run away. He stepped inside the penthouse, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, still keeping an eye out for any signs of true disaster.

“I’ll let her know you’re here,” Hermione said, sweeping out of the room with her strangely cool grace.

Jughead let out a slow, steadying breath, one hand scrubbing lightly over his face. The bruises on his jaw were finally fading, and were no longer painful. He heard a door open, and felt ice water course through his veins when he saw Hiram Lodge exiting his study.

“Ah. It’s you,” Hiram said. He must have had a patent on that particular tone of polite yet condescending—it never ceased to amaze Jughead how often the older man used it, and how many people didn’t pick up on it. 

“It is I,” Jughead agreed, resisting the urge to add anything more sarcastic. Veronica’s voice rang in his head, warning him against pissing off her father. 

Hiram moved further into the room, casually leaning against the back of the sofa. “You know, Forsythe, it isn’t actually that long ago that I was a teenager. I know how trying this time can be in a young person’s life. The stupid decisions we can make when we’re still growing into ourselves. High School is really nothing but a series of—of awkward mistakes.” Hiram smiled that pleasant, self assured smile that always made Jughead want to back hand him. “I’m very calculated with my investments. I’ve factored in potential mistakes. It’s why the last thing I could possibly be right now is upset, or angry, or worried. Because I’ve planned for such instances.”

There was a short moment of silence in which Jughead pulled all of his anger into a tight ball deep within in. When he was certain he was in control of it, Jughead stepped forward calmly, closing the distance between them until he was close enough to be able to use his height to his advantage.

“Please, Mr. Lodge—refer to your daughter as an _investment_ , one more time,” Jughead murmured, meeting the older man’s stare. “Just one. More. Time.”

Though Hiram held his gaze, the self assured smile flickered for just a moment, and Jughead took deep satisfaction from that. Any potential retort died at the sound of two pairs of high heels clicking down the hall. Veronica appeared in front of her mother, a single oversized bag slung over one of her shoulders, wearing one of her Ready To Take Over The World expressions.

One of Jughead’s favorite looks on her.

“Hi—“ Jughead began, but got no farther. She moved directly to him without a moment’s hesitation, one hand grasping a leather lapel of his jacket and hauling his lips down to meet hers. It was a hard, closed mouth kiss that still managed to take Jughead’s breath away, even with it’s intention being painfully obvious.

“Hi,” Veronica murmured, a half smile crossing her lips as she looked up at him through her lashes. The smile fell as quickly as it arrived, her gaze sliding briefly in the direction of her father, who was busy rolling his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Jughead found he couldn’t trust his voice in that moment, so he merely nodded, taking Veronica’s bag with one hand and slinging it over his shoulder. She led the way, her fingers still wrapped around the lapel of his jacket, until he finally took the hint and draped his free arm across her shoulders, pulling her in close to him.

“Have fun, dear,” Hermione called after them.

“I’ll text you!” Veronica chirped back, her tone biting and perky at the same time. She didn’t bother with any other type of goodbye as they exited the apartment and entered the elevator.

“Ronnie, what—“ Jughead began, but was cut off by another kiss. Both of Veronica’s hands slid around the back of his neck, bringing his mouth to meet hers briefly. The scent of cinnamon and almond flooded his brain, and for a moment he was rendered helpless by it, his hands instinctively encircling her waist and holding her close.

“No talking,” Veronica breathed against his lips, nodding her head ever so slightly upward. He realized she was nodding toward the camera in the corner of the elevator, the one any reasonable person would assume was building security.

Apparently it wasn’t just security guards with access to the feed.

Jughead backed Veronica up a pace, until she was pressed against the corner of the elevator. He knew his part in this plan, they had discussed it in almost nauseating detail the previous weekend. Still, it was challenging to navigate the actual execution. He should have kissed her, maybe groped her in an exaggerated manner for the cameras, but as soon as he had her body pinned to the wall, with the warmth of her against him, he hesitated.

“Maybe I like it when you talk,” Jughead finally said with a suggestive smirk. The elevator ride was short, it would have to do.

Veronica arched a brow, a smile blooming to match his. “Consider the information filed,” she replied, just as the elevator doors opened again.

Putting on a show of reluctance, that may not have been entirely a show, Jughead moved away from her, stepping aside and gesturing to the open elevator doors with a flourish. He watched Veronica as she exited, and allowed himself a moment to take in a shaky breath.

This was an inevitable piece of the plan, and he needed to get a grip.

He caught up with Veronica so they exited into the parking lot together. She took ahold of one of his hands, lacing their fingers as had recently become her custom, but stopped short as she took in his terrible parking job.

“Did you dive bomb out of it with the engine still running?” she teased.

Jughead shifted his weight uncomfortably, that small feeling returning that he had in the penthouse. “I thought you were in trouble, okay?” he mumbled in reply.

Veronica looked up at him with such clear affection, it almost felt condescending. Jughead rolled his eyes. 

“That is so endearing.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really, it’s sweet.”

“God help me.” Jughead started to move to the driver’s side door, when he felt a slight tug on his hand. He turned back to Veronica, taking a step closer after a second tug.

“I guarantee we have a rapt audience,” she murmured, her gaze briefly flicking towards the direction of the Pembrooke. “Do you mind?”

Jughead’s free hand came up, his fingers gently cupping the side of her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Work, work, work,” he teased, right before fulfilling the request and kissing her.

There were many things Jughead knew he was good at. Acting would not be high on that list. So while logically he knew the better show was something steamy, maybe even bordering on dirty, all he knew how to do was follow his instincts. His concern for whatever had transpired with her father, his relief at seeing her safe, motivated his lips to move tenderly against hers, his tongue gently sweeping into her mouth. His hands cradled her face, entangling her in a kiss that lingered for a series of small eternities.

This was in no way helping his commitment to leave his romantic notions behind.

The kiss finally ended with both of them panting, their hands still wrapped around one another. Despite himself, Jughead couldn’t stop the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Suitable entertainment value?” 

“That’ll do, Jones, that’ll do,” Veronica replied blithely, giving his chest a brisk pat. With a chuckle Jughead finally extracted himself, moving to open the passenger door to the truck for her to enter.

“Right then, ready to fill me in?” he asked once he got the truck going. “Or at least tell me where we’re going?”

“Welllll, I was hoping we could do a quick stop at your trailer for you to pack a bag.”

He risked glancing at her with raised eyebrows. “We’re going on an overnight?”

Veronica had on her most winning smile, which always meant she was going to say something he would protest against. There had been blissful, simple days when it would have been her voicing a massively incorrect opinion about the Cohen Brothers, but those times were long past them.

“More like a weekend long VaCay in the Five Seasons.”

“A _what_?”

“We talked about how convincing Daddy our relationship was legitimate was a significant possibility—that’s what this is. Our verbal chess match tonight made a couple of things clear to me. Primary being that he thinks you’re just using me to get information.”

Jughead scowled, tightening his grip on the wheel. “I don’t know what offends me more, the insult to my character or your intelligence.”

“Same,” she said with a small smile. “Anyway, anytime I have a spat with my parents, we have a song and dance. If I’m unattached, I party with my besties. If I am attached...”

“You shack up in the fanciest digs you can find for sexy fun time on their dime,” he finished.

“And while he is suspicious of your motivations, he is completely oblivious to mine,” Veronica confirmed. “He’ll never suspect we’re investigating him together, so he thinks me pinning you to a hotel bed all weekend hinders your plans.”

“I’m not sure how much useful activity we can have being stuck in a hotel room all weekend,” Jughead pointed out, but he turned in the direction of the trailer park anyway. “Are you sure you’re okay from the conversation with your dad? When you called—I mean, first off, you called...”

“It wasn’t anything unexpected from Daddy,” she assured him, before her voice went soft. “But unexpected is not the same as not hurting. I just wanted to get out of there.”

Jughead nodded in understanding. How many times had the pain of his father’s choices haunted him, even when he knew what would happen?

After pulling up in front of the trailer, they both got out of the truck. Veronica insisted on “using the ladies” even though he assured her it would only take a minute for him to throw things together in a bag. He scooped up enough clothes for the next couple of days without intentionally choosing anything and shoved his laptop into his bag before leaving his room.

“C’mon, Ronnie, we coulda been half way to the hotel by now!” Jughead hollered to the closed bathroom door as he passed it. She called back some kind of response, but he completely lost it, too busy registering the surprised look on his father’s face, who was suddenly standing in the living room.

“Hotel?” FP repeated with raised eyebrows. He folded his arms over his chest, subtly adjusting his stance to better block the front door.

“Uhhh... Yeah.” Jughead cleared his throat, feeling his face growing warm. “Veronica had a fight with her Dad. We’re going to the Five Seasons.”

For a moment, the two Jones men only stared at each other.

“I was gonna text.”

FP huffed a sigh and scrubbed his stubbled jaw with a hand. “Son, I know I don’t have much room to talk about most parenting decisions, but you’ve gotta see why I’m not exactly sending you off with well wishes.”

“Seriously?” Jughead gritted his teeth in order to avoid rolling his eyes. “Really, this molehill?”

“I’m trying to look out for you,” FP insisted. “The gossip in this town is a monster all on its own, do you really want to feed it like this?”

There had been a time Jughead would have killed to have his father show this kind of parental concern; but right now it only felt hollow, and irritating.

“Dad, no offense, but you gave up the right to comment on my sleeping arrangements when you left me to live at the Drive In,” he snapped, before closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—I know you mean well, but...”

“Mr. Jones.” Both of the men turned, surprised by the sound of Veronica’s voice from the hallway. She stood almost primly, hands clasped in front of her dress, a warm smile on her face. “If it’s Jughead’s honor you’re concerned with, I give you my word as a gentleman and a scholar that he is in good hands.”

FP snorted a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “I appreciate the sentiment, Veronica, but I’m trying to look out for you both in this case. Look, I know this is about as bottom barrel as you can imagine, but you’re welcome to stay here. It’ll be quiet, and low key, no prying eyes.”

It was rare that Jughead had ever seen Veronica caught off guard, but in that moment, it happened. Her mouth opened and closed again quickly, her hands moving up to tuck her hair behind her ears. She let out a soft laugh under her breath, and he swore he could detect a slight blush in her cheeks. “That is... seriously, the sweetest, Mr. Jones, thank you,” she said sincerely. “And I would love to take you up on it—but my mother knows my intention to stay at the hotel, she would worry if I ended up somewhere else. And I know it’s selfish to ask Jug to come along, but the thought of spending the weekend alone—I-I just, I’m low on friends I could ask instead.” She ended her sentence softly, her gaze falling down to her shoes.

FP looked back between the two teenagers for a moment before pinning his stare on his son. “Don’t get this girl pregnant.”

Jughead knew his face flushed as he closed his eyes and silently willed himself to sink into the floor and out of sight. He could practically feel Veronica’s amused expression burning him. “Jesus Christ, _Dad_.”

“Don’t _Dad_ me, if you’re old enough to do it, you’re old enough to talk about if like an adult.”

“You are absolutely right, Mr. Jones, and I can personally assure you that we take every precaution,” Veronica said, laughter in her voice, her brown eyes sparkling. “But by all means, please keep talking about sex in front of Jughead, he’s so cute when he’s flustered.”

“I refuse to stand here to be berated by you both,” Jughead declared, opening up the front door. “I’ll be in the truck, whenever you’re done bonding or whatever.”

As he exited the trailer, he distinctly heard Veronica say, “How quickly can you whip out baby pictures?” 

“No!” Jughead bellowed behind his shoulder. He climbed back into the truck, dropping his bag on the bench seat next to Veronica’s, and shoved the keys back into the ignition. His free hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck self consciously as he struggled with the urge to go back inside and drag Veronica out. The concept of his father and her bonding was simultaneously endearing and absolutely terrifying, but personal pride kept him sitting in his seat.

Finally Veronica exited, turning back towards the door with a smile and a wave. She took her time crossing the small distance to the truck, causing Jughead to narrow his eyes.

“What horrifyingly embarrassing nuggets did you manage to shake out of him?” he demanded.

Veronica laughed. “Just drive, my delicate flower. You have all weekend to try and find out.”


	3. A Particular Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, gentle reader, if any of you happen to be hanging on. Writer’s block is real people, and she’s mean. 
> 
> While I was stalling horribly here, I was also starting another Jeronica project though, so, penance should be arriving soon in the form of another fic! But I swear this one isn’t getting tossed aside for it.

It was not lost on Jughead that the hotel suite was easily as large as the trailer. When he first walked in, trailing behind Veronica with both their bags slung over his shoulders, he actually stopped in the threshold, unabashedly staring at the spacious apartment living she had secured for them for the weekend. The living room seamlessly melted into a small dining area complete with a stocked bar, and behind it a kitchen he was certain no occupant ever used unless they traveled with a personal chef. He had to step forward, turning a corner to see the bedroom with the sprawling California King bed and beyond it a bathroom fitted with a double sink, a glass encased shower, and a full soaking tub sitting separate. He knew Veronica had sweet talked her way into the empty Presidential Suite, had watched her work her magic at the front desk, but it had no way prepared him for the reality of it. He never would have expected Riverdale to bother with building a suite this lush. 

He hadn’t felt so uncomfortable in a space since being in Thornhill for Jason’s funeral.

After checking in, Veronica disappeared to the spa. “I am in serious need of some hot stone therapy,” she declared, before asking if he wanted to join her. Jughead gave a hard pass and opted to settle in the room instead. She told him to order his weight in room service, even though they had just come from dinner at Pop’s, and that she would see him in 85 minutes. So far, he had wasted a good 18 of those minutes trying to figure out where to sit. 

The bed was sinfully soft, and as large as a swimming pool. The leather couch was overstuffed and stiff, making him feel like he might slide off it. The stools at the bar were backless, which he decided he hated, and the seats at the dining room chairs were upholstered and felt more like arm chairs, which he decided he hated more. And the actual arm chair in the room...

Jughead sighed and linked his hands back behind his neck. He recognized his nitpicking; he even had the good grace to feel a little shameful, responding so childishly to this display of wealth when Veronica managed to not bat a eyelash at his poverty. Luckily he had 62 minutes in which he could wallow a little longer and still get his shit together before she returned for the night.

A knock on the room door jarred Jughead, his eyes narrowing. It was entirely possible that the hotel was sending up some kind of a treat, chocolates or flowers; they tended to do such trivial things for the people who could actually afford niceties and didn’t need them for free. But it could also be someone telling them to get the hell out because Mr Lodge pulled the plug on the credit card, so he felt justified in his guarded approach to the door.

One look through the peephole and he blanched. “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he muttered under his breath, mentally preparing himself before opening the door.

“Hello again, Jughead,” Hermione Lodge said, her voice still cool and pleasant. She had a white trench coat thrown over her ensemble, a purse dangling from her elbow rather than a glass of wine in her hand, and yet she carried the same calm, disinterested air about her.

“Hello,” Jughead said slowly, completely unsure of what could be coming. “Veronica’s not in the room right now—“

“Yes, exactly,” Hermione cut in. “I’m here to speak to you. May I?” She gestured vaguely to the threshold.

Jughead started, unaware of just how much he had been blocking the opening. “Hey, your money paid for this room,” he acknowledged as he shut the door behind her.

“How true.” Hermione took a quick glance around the room, and apparently finding it to her satisfaction, turned back to face him. “Do you love my daughter?”

Jughead choked. “I—ah—Mrs. Lodge... Veronica and I haven’t—Y’know, she sorta has trouble with labels and—“

“I’m not asking if you and her have said I love you to each other,” Hermione clarified, not unkindly. “But I need to know, right this moment, regardless: do you love my daughter?”

A lump in his throat made it difficult to swallow. Jughead’s mind raced with a dozen possible different responses, and as his brain struggled to calculate what could be the most beneficial answer for her to hear, his gut decided to follow instinct. 

“Jesus, of course I love her,” he breathed. The words tumbled out effortlessly, and he told himself it was only because platonic love still counted. He even almost believed it.

Hermione‘s smile was soft and sad. “It’s a particular look,” she murmured. “Hiram has never had a feel for that kind of nuance.” She set her purse down on the coffee table, freeing up her arms to cross over her chest. “Jughead, I’m going to be honest with you. I hope you will take this gift for what it is, and use it wisely.”

“Well, this sounds completely low key.”

“When I came to Riverdale with Veronica, I had very serious intentions to turn Lodge Industries around. I had an unprecedented opportunity to steer the business without Hiram questioning me, or so I thought.” Hermione looked off to one side, her gaze becoming unfocused. “I squandered what little chance I had. That’s my cross to bear, not Veronica’s. But she does have one or two of her own.”

“Mrs. Lodge, with all due respect, I’m really not sure where this is going,” Jughead said softly.

Hermione cleared her throat and blinked rapidly, gathering herself. “I wasn’t sure how I felt, months ago, when Veronica insisted on taking a more active role with the family business. But this week, hearing her say she wanted no part of it... I was relieved. I think you’re a large part of that. Veronica is a passionate and dedicated girl, but she’s also mercurial. One break up sent her away from the business—I don’t want another one to send her back to it.”

“I think you should give your daughter a bit of credit, here,” he insisted. “She isn’t doing this because of me, she’s doing this for herself.”

He watched Hermione slowly pace around the room, her gaze flicking around the furniture, as though she were cataloguing it.

“Do you play chess?” 

Jughead shrugged. “I’ve dabbled.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re bright enough to have picked up the basics. One of the most essential being keeping your eye on the entire board.” Hermione picked up her purse again, slinging it on her elbow. “Veronica is still figuring it out, and she is dangerously close to having to learn that lesson through a hard failure.” She crossed the room to Jughead, looking up to meet his gaze steadily. “You both have one more year in Riverdale before you can secure freedom through any college of your choosing. It’s not my place to tell you what to do, but I would hope the potential ramifications for Veronica’s well being would be enough to inform your decisions.”

The mental gymnastics of the language the Lodges used on a daily basis was exhausting. Jughead pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Mrs. Lodge, I feel like you came here with a very distinct purpose, but I also know you’re dancing around whatever it is you want to say. I’m a great appreciator of blunt honesty, really.”

Hermione sighed, the sound a small dissatisfied huff. “I don’t think Veronica understands what could happen to her if she snoops in our business when she _owns_ one third of it. And has signed countless documents in that capacity.”

Jughead actually took a step back, the information sending him physically as well as mentally reeling. Veronica’s parents had made her a partner. While she was still a high school student, hopelessly ill equipped to make any informed decisions—a perfect pawn.

“Sh-she’s a minor still...” he said weakly. “That can’t possibly...”

“She operated as a share holder waving the right to a trust affiliate.”

“Yeah, and at whose behest did she do that, huh?” he snapped. 

“Regardless of how it happened, it is our reality,” Hermione responded coolly. “You have a year, Jughead. Maybe you could remember what it’s like to be a teenager for a bit of that time and enjoy yourself.” She moved past him, gliding over to the door of the suite and pulling it open. “I can only protect you two if you keep your heads _down_. Please think about that.”

It turned out it was the only thing Jughead could think about.

He sat up on his side of the bed, his laptop informing him it was almost two in the morning. He had pretended to be asleep when Veronica came back from the spa to avoid starting a conversation he wasn’t prepared to have, his brain churning even as he willed his breath to stay slow and steady.

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised Veronica’s parents did something as morally bankrupt as force their underage daughter to be legally tied to the company. Perhaps that wasn’t the real surprise at all; not the piece that kept him awake, brooding. She had been gathering information on Lodge Industries for weeks, had been helping him try to piece together a story that very well could kill the company and send her parents to jail, and all the while she knew she might go down with the ship too. She knew her signature lived on documents that would implicate her, and she did it anyway.

He turned his head to look down at Veronica’s sleeping form. Her back was to him, her dark hair spilling along the pillows in inky waves. As though she could feel the weight of his gaze, she picked that moment to stir and turn, her face suddenly illuminated by the cool glow of his laptop screen. She looked relaxed; he noticed because it was in such stark contrast to how she had been looking recently. It reminded him of going to the movies, and eating onion rings, and all the silly trivial things they used to somehow find time to do.

Even as a wave of guilt washed over him for it, Jughead finally acknowledged the truth—he was desperate to feel that simple freedom again, even for a moment. He was tired of being Riverdale’s crusader. He was exhausted fighting fights no one else bothered with. 

Maybe being a teenager for a little while wouldn’t be so bad.

Veronica’s nose twitched, her hand unconsciously coming up to brush at her face. She slowly blinked her eyes open, noticing the light of the laptop, and twisted her head on the pillow enough to look up at him.

“Hey you,” she murmured, her voice thick and soft with sleep. 

Jughead couldn’t help a small smile. “Hey yourself.”

“Trouble sleeping?” she asked with a yawn. “Penny for your thoughts.”

For a moment Jughead weighed his options. He had avoided talking to her earlier, wanting to figure out the best way to tell her that her mother had paid him a visit. But now, having identified a piece of the ever present ache in his chest, a new option presented itself.

“What are you wearing to Prom?”

“Mm—what?” Veronica mumbled, half asleep still but becoming more alert as she slid up to a sitting position.

“How am I expected to pick the corsage if I don’t know what color you’re wearing to the dance?” Jughead explained.

“Jug, I—we—this isn’t...” She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head slightly. “You’re up in the middle of the night, thinking about Prom?”

He hit a couple of key strokes on his laptop, then turned the screen slightly to show her the florist’s website he had open. “It’s next week, and seriously, Ronnie, this is overwhelming, can you blame me?”

“Jughead,” Veronica said, her tone full of both affection and disbelief. “We’re not going to Prom... are we?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well for one, you haven’t asked me,” she said with a pointed look. She leaned over, turning on a bedside lamp and then twisted to sit cross legged in the bed facing him. Her gaze moved up, lingering on his hair, free from the confines of his beanie, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “But, seriously—I know a school dance is like the sixth circle of Hell for you.”

“Please, let’s not give it undue credit. School dances barely rate first circle,” he scoffed, closing his laptop. “Besides, cinematic culture dictates the necessity of this right of passage. All the weirdos still inevitably end up at the school dance, and it’s only sometimes as bad as they think it will be.”

“Yeah and sometimes it’s Let’s Lock The Gym and Burn Everyone Alive levels of worse,” she muttered. 

Jughead watched her pick at a nonexistent piece of lint on the comforter, her expression growing guarded and uncomfortable. “I guess I just assumed you’d want to go,” he finally admitted. “You... don’t?”

She let out a sigh. “Yes and no?” she said with a shrug. “I like the idea of school dances, but they’re really about hanging out with your friends and making out with your date in dark corners, except our friends aren’t really our friends anymore and we—well....” 

The way she trailed off made Jughead realize how woefully unprepared he was to deal with regular teenage anything. Murder, incest, and organized crime were a cinch compared to trying to decide if a girl was hinting at wanting to make out with you, or if a girl was attempting to kindly tell you no way in hell. Or was Veronica even attempting to infer something beyond their predetermined arrangement, or was she merely commenting directly upon said arrangement? Why did this fake relationship suddenly seem so complicated? 

“Veronica Lodge, will you come with me to Prom?” he finally asked. “If only to torture your father with visions of me taking you to a Serpent filled orgy of an after party?”

Veronica’s face suddenly lit up with delight. “Oh my god, that’s it!”

Jughead leaned back slightly in bed. “Um, there’s definitely no actual Serpent orgy happening, you know that right?”

Veronica rolled her eyes, refusing to acknowledge the question. “Mom already said I could have friends stay over at our lake house after Prom. Now instead of They Who Shall Not Be Named, it can be Toni and Sweet Pea and the rest.”

“Y’know the other Serpents that attend Riverdale have names too.”

“And I’ll learn them all tomorrow night when we go the Wyrm to invite them to our after prom,” Veronica replied smoothly. 

“Yes, dear,” he drawled. Though his tone was dry, he couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched her turn out the light and slip back down on the bed. He followed suit, lying down on his back to stare up at the darkened ceiling. He couldn’t help but marvel at how strange it was that it felt so normal to be lying down to sleep next to Veronica Lodge.

“Ronnie—“

“Green,” she said softly. “My dress is emerald green.” 

“...that counts as a yes, right?”

The laughter didn’t start until after she flung a pillow into his face.

————————————————

“Jesus Christ, Veronica, what was wrong with outfit number four?”

Jughead stretched out on the overstuffed couch, his feet dangling off of the edge of one of the arms, his elbow propping him partially up as his free hand used the TV remote to flip through channels. The last twenty minutes had been spent with Veronica emerging from the bedroom in one ensemble after another; each one of them perfectly enticing in their own way, but apparently none to her satisfaction. 

“It wasn’t appropriate for our evening plans!” Veronica called back through the door.

Since she wasn’t present to scold him, Jughead allowed himself an eye roll. “We’re going to the Wyrm, not some club opening.”

“Exactly my point—I have a fine line to walk, finding my personal brand of biker chic.”

The sound of the bedroom door opening again made Jughead twist his head around to watch her entrance. She wore a pair of spike chrome heeled boots tucked into a pair of black jeans that looked painted on, an artfully shredded graphic T-shirt that showed off her toned stomach, and a pair of fingerless leather gloves that were just over the top enough to be purely Veronica. Her loose waves were more tousled than usual, her eyeshadow smokier with a pop of purple added, and a wine red lip stain made her look like she had just spent some time being thoroughly kissed.

Not for the first time did Jughead feel the surreal sensation of hot and cold rushing through him simultaneously, his brain going utterly blank at the sight of her. His elbow suddenly slipped against the swollen leather, causing him to unceremoniously tumble from the couch to the floor. Face flushing, he popped back up, and was greeted by Veronica’s deliciously pleased expression. He wanted to scowl in reply but he couldn’t manage it—her cat-that-caught-the-canary expression conjured too many indecent thoughts.

“Mission accomplished,” Veronica smirked. “We can go.”

“Me making an idiot out of myself? That was your litmus test?” he grumbled, grabbing his leather jacket off the back of the couch.

The familiar scent of cinnamon combined with something smoky flooded his brain when she closed the distance between them. “If the unflappable Jughead Jones is suddenly very flapped, I must be doing something right.” Her tone was playful, but also throaty, and Jughead had to repress the urge to shiver from it.

Then she abruptly turned from him, breezily heading out the door of the hotel room, leaving him with his skin practically buzzing from the tension. This couldn’t be his imagination, this couldn’t be one sided, that was definitely a classic Veronica Lodge flirting technique.

Maybe.

Sighing, Jughead pulled on his jacket and fished his keys from the pocket as he exited the hotel room. The day had felt like it’s own brand of delicious torture: hours of uninterrupted time together where he was able to over analyze every moment of physical contact on the couch while they binged television, where he obsessed over trying to figure out if her tone was regular flirty or extra flirty. Now he was stepping into an evening of being out with her, dressed like that, at a place where PDA was practically required. 

As far as deaths went, it was at least a good one.


	4. These Trials and Tribulations

For the entire drive to the White Wyrm, Jughead was utterly distracted trying to decide how to act when they finally got there. At school, he and Veronica basically interacted as they always had, with the exception of some prolonged hand holding. The show for Mr. Lodge had been just that—a show they both knew was necessary and had been predetermined. Hanging out for the night with the Serpents, though, presented a new situation that made Jughead’s palms sweaty in an irritatingly juvenile fashion.

“Ground control to Major Tom—can you hear me?”

Jughead blinked and turned his head to look at Veronica. Apparently he parked the truck on autopilot, because he didn’t realize until now they were at their destination. The crappy neon lights advertising all varieties of cheap beer illuminated the interior of the pick up; Veronica’s concerned expression was highlighted with various blues and yellows.

“You okay?” she reiterated.

“I’m here, floating in my tin can,” Jughead quoted in reply. “But really, I’m fine.”

“Suuure.” Veronica unbuckled her seat belt and slid over the bench seat closer to him. “I have this really wacky idea for tonight. It might be too out there, you tell me, but—how about we just have fun?”

Jughead let out something between a sigh and a laugh. “I think I need a diagram, a flow chart, and a timeline of events to establish my parameters for fun in this scenario.”

“What a beautiful way to miss my point.” Veronica scooted closer still, her left thigh pressing lightly against his right. The warmth radiating from her seemed to immediately soak into him, buzzing his brain. She shook her loose, heavy curls back behind her shoulders, her now exposed left arm leaning against his leather clad mirror. “We’ve been so stressed detailing out exactly how we should act in public in front of any given person, obsessing over defining everything—maybe we can agree to ditch worrying about the labels and just... have fun.”

There was something about the tone of her voice, the way her gaze flickered down to his mouth that made Jughead swallow hard. His pulse began hammering so quickly he felt for sure she could feel it through their clothes. But for once, the tempo of his heart wasn’t accompanied by a twist of anxious panic. He wasn’t plagued with confusion and second guessing. Even his thick headed boy brain could pick up her intentions; they may not have been the aspirations of his die hard romanticism, but since when had that served him well anyway?

“I think I should be hurt,” Jughead replied, his voice teasing. “Are you implying our seven episode binge of Luke Cage earlier wasn’t fun enough for you?”

A warm smirk bloomed on her lips. “I’m implying there are nuances of meaning, asshole,” she murmured. She bit down on her lower lip and leaned into his arm, her shoulder giving him a small shove before she slid away to the passenger side to let herself out of the truck.

A delighted grin sprung up on Jughead’s face as he watched her walk towards the entrance to the bar, hips swaying confidently as she navigated the gravel parking lot. He didn’t normally consider himself a “just have fun” kind of guy, but there could always be exceptions. 

————————————————

Despite Saturday night being her best chance at making some cash, Toni got her shift behind the bar covered in favor of hanging out. The younger generation of Serpents milled around the pool table closest to the ancient jukebox, giving them a fighting chance to get something other than 80s hair bands on the queue.

Toni and Jughead sat together at one of the high top tables; she was on her third beer, he still nursed the same neat whiskey he’d ordered an hour ago. His gaze kept drifting over to Veronica, currently draped across the jukebox as she flipped through her options. She popped her hip to the rhythm of the current tune in a most distracting fashion.

“... and that’s when a bought the horse a prostitute.”

Jughead choked on his drink, coughing at the burn in his throat as he whipped his head to Toni, taking in her amused smirk and glowering in return. “Alright, I may have been a little—distracted,” he gasped.

“I get it, dude, that is worth a lingering stare.” Toni cast her gaze over to the brunette with an approving nod. “But I also have to give you shit for it. I was just saying how... how _happy_ you both seem. It’s a good look, Jug, for real.”

He hoped in vain that the smile on his face wasn’t too dumb. “Yeah, well... I am happy, for however brief and shining the moment may be. I’m attempting to live in it before it inevitably crashes and burns.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a not-so-secret secret. This, right here—this is what dating is supposed to be.” Toni gestured to them both with her bottle in hand. “Hot under the collar, idiot grinning, eye fucking across the room _fun_.”

“Huh. And here I thought it was supposed to be angst ridden arguments and tear drenched declarations of affection with a healthy dose of anxiety and dread.”

“You’ve been watching too much Vampire Diaries.”

“I’ve watched too much Masterpiece Theatre,” Jughead corrected. “No one does angst like the British.”

Veronica finally made her choice on the jukebox, jamming a couple of well worn buttons before turning and heading back to the table. She slid up next to Jughead effortlessly, slipped her arm through his like it belonged there, and as far as he was concerned, it did.

“You are looking far too satisfied with yourself,” he observed, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I just put on your favorite Bowie song, in honor of our earlier conversation,” Veronica explained. She retrieved her drink with her free hand, one of Toni’s signature martini’s, and took a healthy sip.

“I have definitely never told you—“ He paused as the song changed, listening a moment until he recognized _Life on Mars_. He clapped his mouth shut and looked at the brunette with narrowed eyes. “This is more witchcraft, right? You stole my hair and my essence while I was asleep last night to see inside my head?”

“Please—like I’d need to waste mystical energy on figuring out your taste in music,” Veronica shot back with a grin.

From over the other side of the pool table, Sweet Pea let out a triumphant whoop. Two older Serpents growled in disappointment, slamming ten dollar bills on the edge of the billiards table before skulking off to the other side of the bar. Sweet Pea and Fangs shared a high five and pocketed their money quickly.

“Jones, your girl called dibs, you’re up!” Fangs called.

“You what?” Jughead shook his head slightly. “Nuh-uh, pool is not my game.”

“Pool is just geometry,” Veronica insisted.

Toni snorted. “Ask this boy what he got in geometry, just ask.”

“Dammit, Jim, I’m a writer, not a mathematician.”

Veronica leaned into Jughead, her fingers wrapping around the lapel of his jacket, her forehead almost but not quite resting against his. “C’mon,” she purred. “Be my partner in crime. I’ll make it worth your while.”

The desire to play it cool was only partly successful—Jughead couldn’t quell his grin entirely, but he could make of a more sly half smile. “Tell me more, tell me more,” he deadpanned, one of his hands slipping around her waist and sliding into the back pocket of her jeans.

“Cchhhrriisst, Jones, take your foreplay off the floor already,” Sweet Pea groaned. “Are you playing or what? I could be winning gas money right now, y’know.”

Jughead rolled his eyes, but dutifully slid off of his seat. “You owe me for this forthcoming embarrassment,” he told Veronica with a mock stern expression. Her only response was a triumphant smile and a kiss to his jaw, a warm pressure not as blatant as a kiss on the mouth but not so innocent as a kiss on the cheek. 

They had been dancing around it ever since they walked in. She nuzzled his neck, he kissed her hair. She grabbed his ass, he ran his fingers against her bare back. He couldn’t blame any of the other Serpents for giving him a hard time; it was as though he and Veronica were trying to cram months worth of flirting into a single night. He was sure it was obnoxious to the outside eye, and he was just as sure he didn’t care. 

He watched Veronica pick out her stick and circle the pool table, surveying the situation before she leaned over to break the table. He listened to Fangs attempt to give her grief as she lined up her shot. She casually flipped him the bird before using her hand to make the bridge for her stick and struck the cue ball with an easy confidence; she didn’t look a bit surprised when three balls immediately sunk from the break, but Sweet Pea certainly did.

“We shoulda stuck to playing Ginger and Smalls,” he grumbled.

Jughead began to reply, but stopped short when he saw his father coming his way. He knew chances were good he would run into his dad on a Saturday night at the Wyrm, but it was FP’s expression that made Jughead’s heart sink. He knew that grim look. 

“What happened?”

“Hey, son,” FP said in greeting, his gaze scanning the crowd. “I’m sorry to be here—“

“Dad.” Jughead couldn’t keep the exhausted tone out of his voice. “Just—What is it?”

FP pursed his lips and shoved his hands into his back pockets. “Sheriff’s been putting up eviction notices tonight. There’s more than a few of us on the Southside that’s fallen behind on our rent. The bank’s been working with us in the past, but something’s suddenly made them lose patience.” His gaze turned to the pool table, his brow knitted in concern. “Some are of the opinion that it’s Hiram’s way of telling us he’s less than thrilled about you stepping out with his daughter.”

The pain rippled through Jughead like a wave. When he tried to be the crusader for Riverdale, he lost. When he tried to blow off his self imposed responsibilities, he still lost. He looked at Veronica, watching her laugh at something Toni said, and then registered as the warmth in her eyes died when she looked in his direction. 

She handed her stick over to Toni before coming over to the Jones men. She put on her well practiced, well guarded polite face. Jughead hated being the reason she had to wear that expression, rather than the pleased smile she had just moments before.

“Mr. Jones,” Veronica greeted cautiously. “It’s a pleasure to see you again so soon.”

“That’s a very sweet lie, kid,” FP said, sounding both tired and kind. “It looks like you were having a good night. I’m sorry to be breaking it up.”

“What’s the deal?” Toni asked as she joined the clump next to the table. She stood the pool stick on it’s end, leaning on it with her brows furrowed. “This looks un-fun.”

“Eviction notices are showing up on Serpents’ doors,” Jughead explained. “Some think it’s Hiram Lodge, flexing his wrath for my daring to socialize with his daughter.”

“It’s just a theory,” FP cut in quickly. “And one I want to stomp out, but until I do, it’s probably best for you to hang out elsewhere.”

“This is bullshit,” Toni said. “They can’t even walk down the halls at school together without getting the evil eye, we’re supposed to be better than that.”

“Y’know, looking back on my multitude of past experiences with the Serpents, maybe we _aren’t_ better than this,“ Jughead snapped. “I need to stop being surprised by being kicked from all sides.”

He looked down when he felt a warm hand slide into his, watching Veronica’s fingers weave around. “It’s okay, Jug,” she murmured. “Let’s just go.”

Her quiet, resigned patience immediately doused Jughead’s anger; she always kept her cool while he got agitated. He sighed and gave her hand a squeeze, pulling her in closer to gently kiss the top of her head. “Yeah, okay.”

Toni set the pool stick aside and pulled Veronica into a hug. “I’ll see you in school on Monday,” she said. “And we’ll bring the fuckin’ house down at Prom.”

They said quick goodbyes to the rest of the Serpents before heading out to the truck. Veronica hugged her arms around herself after settling into the cab, despite the warmth of the night.

“We missed it, didn’t we?” she asked softly. “The chance to be just regular teenagers?”

“I think we less missed it and more had it rudely snatched from us by our dipshit parents,” Jughead sighed. He rolled down the window before pulling out of the parking lot and heading back to the hotel.

Veronica rolled down her window as well, sticking one of her arms out into the air stream. The rest of the ride they spent in silence. At a red light Jughead stole a glance at her, wanting to say a dozen different things, but her eyes were closed, her head resting against the edge of the open window, and the words dried up in his mouth like sand.

By the time they got back up to the room and Veronica quietly disappeared into the bathroom, Jughead had no idea what she was thinking, or what he should say. He spent the next twenty minutes fidgeting, unable to settle down to anything, anxious for reasons he couldn’t entirely identify.

When Veronica came out of the bathroom she was back in one of her dresses, her hair still wet from her shower, her face scrubbed clean of the evening’s makeup. It struck him then that she was just as beautiful no matter what she did; he wondered if anyone had ever told her so.

“I’ll go back to my parents tonight,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She wouldn’t quite look at him, which made Jughead’s stomach drop like he just hit the hill of a roller coaster.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because—God, Jug, _because_.” She paused, taking in a slow breath to calm the tremble in her voice. “We didn’t think this through at all. We’re talking about people’s homes— _your_ home, and this is just—I can’t...”

Panic raced through Jughead’s veins; he couldn’t understand how things spiraled so fast. One hand dragged his beanie off so that his other could thread through his hair, tugging on it as if he could somehow coax his brain into working faster. He moved around the bed to sit beside her, wringing the worn knit fabric with both hands.

“Ronnie, I—look, I could point out this may just have to do with us being poor and not actually be your dad. Or I could remind you that if it is your dad, this was part of his end game all along and at worst we just moved up his time table. But you’re smart, so you know these things.” He reached out with one hand, his fingers catching her jaw and raising her gaze up to meet his. He felt his heart to a lopsided somersault when she looked at him, and knew there was no going back. “So instead I’m gonna ask you to stay because... because I want you to. Because I’m sure of absolutely nothing these days except you. Because I don’t know what you would call this thing between us, but it’s the only thing that keeps me going. Because—Y’know, I’m much better at these sorta of things on paper with time for revisions, writing extemporaneously is not my strong suit...”

A hint of a warm smile came to Veronica’s face. “You’re doing fine,” she murmured. “I just—I _hate_ feeling completely out of control of my own life.”

“Well, we can add control freak problems to our list of things in common.” Jughead slid back on the bed, situating himself to be sitting up against the headboard, propped against the pillows, and Veronica followed him without hesitation, fitting herself under his arm, her head resting against his chest. Her free hand caught one of his, weaving their fingers together. It was her customary way to hold his hand in public, but in the hallway corridors it felt like a defensive position; a shield against any potential teenager cruelties. Now it felt like a reassurance—a choice for connection. 

“What was it like?” she asked softly. “Living at the Drive In?”

Jughead started slightly, then sighed. “Cold, Lodge. You actually lulled me into a false sense of security. I almost thought I got away with you not hearing that.”

“I had intentions to do the noble thing and claim temporary deafness,” she admitted. “But...”

“Well, it didn’t help me feel anymore in control of my life, since that’s what you’re really asking.” He concentrated on the warmth coming from her hand to his, the pressure of her thumb rubbing gently against his skin. “It was just another step in a downward spiral of being a petulant self absorbed kid.”

“That isn’t a phrase I would use to describe you, not even Broody, Angsty, 15 Year Old You,” she murmured.

Jughead sighed again, weighing his options. He could backpedal, and she would probably respect his desire to not talk about it... but, he never talked about it. Not to Betty, or Archie; it just sat like a stone in the pit of his stomach, often ignorable but never really gone. 

“Do you know I have a sister?” 

Veronica lifted her head up, sitting up on her elbow so she could look at him. Her facial expression was the only answer he needed, and he smiled a brittle smile in response.

“Jellybean. She’s thirteen now. I haven’t seen her since Mom left with her almost three years ago. Don’t feel bad, I intentionally never talk about it, and B—the people who know me, they’re good about not bringing it up.”

Veronica’s brows knitted in confusion. “I knew your mom left—she took one of her children and just... left you?”

“I didn’t want to go,” he said. “She and Dad had had a fight, to me it seemed like every other one but clearly something was different... She was throwing shit in a suitcase and screaming at me to do the same and I told her no. This was home, and I wasn’t going to give up on it, or on Dad—she just looked at me, so exhausted and said ‘Fine. Your fight now.’ And left.” He swallowed hard against the lump suddenly in his throat, his gaze dropping to his chest. “I was always on her ass about how she wasn’t trying hard enough with Dad, as if it was her job to keep him upright and sober. I thought my parents were terrible at hiding their fights and their pain from us kids... Turns out I didn’t know the half of it until she left and suddenly I was the one trying to hold Dad together. It was like trying to mold dry sand in your hands. It’s no wonder she left my self entitled punk ass to find things out for myself.”

“Bullshit.” Veronica’s dark eyes had a fierce glint in them, her mouth pressed in a tight line. “She’s your mother, and all teenagers are dicks at some point, she doesn’t get to—to just _pick_ which one she feels like parenting.”

“I dunno, kinda looks like she does from here.” 

“Then that makes her a bad parent.” She squeezed his hand still tangled with hers and ducked her head until he had to look at her. “That’s on her, not you.”

Jughead pressed his lips together tightly to avoid feeling them tremble and shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. “Isn’t it? I push everyone away. My parents, Archie, Betty, even—I mean, you were about to walk out the door tonight and leave me alone.”

Veronica sucked in a soft breath, her eyes going glassy with emotion. “Jughead—no, I...” She let go of his hand, and for a moment he mourned the loss of that contact, but then she was straddling his lap, her tiny frame fitting over his. Both her hands cradled his face, her fingertips gently stroking back his freed hair as their eyes met. He could see the pain and uncertainty he felt mirrored in her own, but also a strength he could only dream of possessing. 

“Neither of us is alone, not when we have each other,” she said softly. “Even if we have to keep reminding each other, constantly. Like, multiple times, every day.”

Her words made Jughead crack a half smile and roll his eyes, but when he met her gaze again something warm and dark lingered in her expression, a look that made any vestiges of self pity disappear in a heated flash. The fingertips of her left hand continued to play with the long waves of hair that fell against his right temple, carding through the strands delicately in a manner that proved most distracting.

“Any specific ideas on these daily reminders?” Jughead asked; he had intended on it being a light quip but his voice sounded low and almost rough in his ears. “Do we get a secret code word that means I got your back? Like Budapest or curmudgeon?”

Veronica gently tucked his hair back behind his ear and let her hand rest there, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw, skating over the faintest hint of stubble. “I had something slightly different in mind,” she murmured. Then her mouth fell on his, their lips meeting in their first real kiss. No audiences, no subterfuge, just two people with a desire for connection.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a Princess Bride quote about the most pure of kisses slipped about, before floating away, along with every other worry or thought or care. Veronica Lodge kissed Jughead Jones, and for a brief shining moment, the world disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello gentle readers! Thought I had disappeared into the ether, didn’t you? Yeah me too, for a hot minute. Got lost in the absurdity of the tail end of season two!
> 
> To those of you still hanging on, please know your kudos and kind words seriously mean the world to me, and make me always come back when I’m stuck. Also, as a small token of my appreciation, I present a small spoiler: the next chapter is already begun, and will be about Prom. Because these kids are still in effing high school.
> 
> Oh and there’s gonna be a rating bump. ;) enjoy!


	5. Let’s Dance

“This is a disaster.” 

Jughead stood in front of the only mirror in the trailer, the one attached to the medicine cabinet in the cramped bathroom. The lighting was horrifically yellow and tarnish stains littered the glass, but neither of those were the reasons the suit fit poorly, or that the dark circles under his eyes suddenly bothered him.

He dragged his beanie off of his head, releasing the wild tangle of hair underneath. The picture improved slightly, but his anxiety spiked, like it always did, and Jughead yanked the hat back on with a growl of disappointment. He liked his hat, he _loved_ his hat, but he also hated its nonexistent guts for requiring constant attachment. He used to consider the strangeness of it a point of pride; now he loathed the fact that he knew he would have a panic attack if he left it at home. It would be a long, long process to disentangle his emotional reliance on a physical object. Going cold turkey on prom night was not the place to start, even if he felt like a foolish child next to Veronica when he wore it.

In that very moment, it struck him that he was escorting Veronica Fucking Lodge to the junior prom, and he was woefully ill equipped for the task.

“Dear God, why did I think this was a good idea?” 

“Why do men ever think anything terrible is a good idea, son?” FP paused in front of the open door, looking over his child and giving him a slightly sour smile. “Love.”

“Love hurts. Love scars,” Jughead grumbled. “In the form of ritualized humiliation disguised as a supposed good time.”

“Didn’t you tell me you were the one to convince her to go?”

“Not the point,” Jughead replied, a hint of a whine in his voice. He took a look at his tie and it’s lopsided knot, and yanked it off his neck with an irritated grunt.

“Christ, you’re gonna rip you own head off—c’mere.” 

Jughead threw his father a skeptical look, but FP urged him out with a wave of his hand. The younger Jones met the older in the doorway, and allowed the tie to be knotted for him.

“I know my advice ain’t worth much, but remember, kid; this girl chose you,” FP said, his voice a warm rumble. “Angsting, beanie wearing, wrong side of the river you. You don’t need to be any different for her tonight.”

The simple truth of his father’s words struck him, and allowed Jughead to breathe a little easier. Veronica _did_ choose him. She chose him with that long, lingering kiss at the Five Seasons, and with staying up until the dawn talking. She chose him every day the past week they met on the steps at school, greeting him with a warm hug and black coffee. She chose him in between classes, dragging him into a quiet corner to kiss him breathless and leave him a grinning idiot in her wake. 

It had been the best week of school Jughead could remember.

FP signaled the completion of his task with a pat on Jughead’s shoulder, and the younger man glanced down, surprised at the immaculate state of his tie.

“Some things you never forget from boot camp,” FP said, replying to the unasked question in his son’s expression.

They both moved to the front of the trailer, Jughead shrugging out of his suit jacket as he walked. He laid it carefully inside the top of his duffel bag, before grabbing his leather jacket to pull on for the bike ride over to the school. The Serpents were meeting in the school parking lot, where Veronica would pick everyone up in her limo to take them over to the Five Seasons Ballroom. It meant everyone could keep their overnight bags safely stowed in the car, and that the more paranoid Serpents didn’t have to give up their address to an outsider.

“Sure you don’t want a ride?” FP asked, half sitting on the edge of the tiny kitchen table, pulling his cell phone from his back pocket.

“Nah, the ride will clear my head. Or I can at least tell myself that.” He picked up his helmet from where it hung by the door. He was almost out the door before he caught himself and poked his head back in the trailer. “Hey Dad?”

FP looked up from his phone, eyebrows raised silently.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jughead said softly. He watched his father’s face flicker with emotion, feeling his own heart twist at the sight. It was a welcome pain, this fleeting moment of the two of them actually connecting about something mundane. Welcome for being so rare, and painful for knowing it wouldn’t last. Some dire situation would arise, tensions would mount, and they would be yelling at each other about some life or death circumstance. But for now, he was just a teenager who got solid advice from his old man about taking a girl to a dance. 

He took it as a good omen.  
————————————————  
The school parking lot was empty when Jughead pulled in on his bike. He took the moment alone to breathe, his helmet resting in his lap, the evening breeze running through his loose hair. The warm, excited nervousness of seeing Veronica fought against the colder anxiety of knowing they would have to see Betty and Archie. Kevin, walking the razor’s edge of Taking No Sides, had gently warned Veronica of their first official public moment of coupledom. For the last three days Jughead chewed over the knowledge, and while he did find himself dreading the societal drama that would surely unfold, he no longer felt soul wrenching nausea at the thought of them together. 

_How quickly tides can turn_ , he thought with a rueful smile.

Jughead climbed off the bike and unstrapped his travel bag, zipping it open and digging inside. Bypassing his suit jacket, he pulled out his beanie and the plastic shell that contained the miraculously uncrushed corsage. After enlisting Toni’s help, he chose a wrist corsage that had two white calla lillies resting against black ribbon. It had been one of the most understated options in the shop, which made him a little nervous, but Toni assured him it was the right choice.

She had also reserved a wrist corsage, of blood red roses with a generous spray of black baby’s breath. Jughead’s eyebrows had climbed up toward his hat at the sight.

“Who is your Prom date again?”

Toni had just stared at him flatly a moment before walking away, the question unanswered, like it had been all week.

“C’mon it was worth a shot!”

The sound of an approaching car roused Jughead back to the present. He pulled his beanie on one handed, attempting to tamp down the butterfly feeling in his stomach with a slow breath. Instead it felt like the metaphorical insects lurched right up into his throat, and no amount of cold reason could convince them to calm down.

Until he saw Veronica. Then the whole world went quiet, for just a moment.

She wore her hair up, the dark locks woven into a circular crown, appearing like an endless braid, with a few thin tendrils artfully falling around her shoulders. The emerald green silk of her dress came up to her throat as a thick collar, jet jewels sewn in to create the look of a choker. The fabric rippled down her body, completely covering her in the front, but he could see way the dress swooped down, completely backless with the silk pooling low on her spine. She gave a slow turn for the full effect, and there, nestled in the green silk against the small of her back, a silver snake brooch sat, another black jewel set in place as its eye.

When she completed her spin, Veronica stepped to close the distance between them, a well satisfied smile gracing her lips. They were delicately painted, a barely there nude color to offset the smokiness of her eyes. “Hi.”

The single word traveled straight down Jughead’s spine, full of warm, dark promise that sent his pulse racing. “Hi yourself.”

Veronica’s gaze slid over him slowly, one of her hands reaching out and lightly fingering his sleeve. It was only then he realized he was still in his Serpent’s jacket. “This is a bold choice. You look hot.”

“You look—breathtaking,” he replied softly. He was rewarded with a beautiful blush on her cheeks, and a small piece of a pleased seventeen year old shone through her well polished exterior. 

“Thanks.”

For a moment they just stood, drinking each other in, until Jughead realized her eyes kept dropping down to the plastic shell in his hand.

“Oh, yeah this, uh, this is for you.” He fumbled with the top a moment, the plastic refusing to cooperate, until it suddenly popped off and he very nearly dropped it all on the concrete. He managed to snatch the corsage even as the shell fell away, and got a brief golf clap from his date for his efforts.

“Yes yes, here all week, try the veal,” Jughead mumbled, feeling his face flush with embarrassment.

“It’s beautiful,” Veronica said, her voice completely sincere. It was almost enough to calm him. He gently wrapped the elastic band around her wrist, the black ribbon and white lilies resting prettily. He couldn’t help but let his fingertips linger on her bare skin, tracing up the length of her arm. He heard her suck in a soft breath, a welcome reminder that he wasn’t the only one so easily affected by their touches. He debated whether she would allow him to steal a kiss before getting pictures at the dance, and had just committed to risking it when the rumble of an engine and the squeal of rubber made them both whip their heads around in surprise.

A cherry red convertible peeled into the parking lot beside them. Even with the white top up, Jughead would recognize the car anywhere.

“Cheryl?” 

The car’s engine died with a soft purr, and the surviving Blossom exited, unfolding herself from the car with a toss of her flaming hair. She wore a strapless gown made of black leather, with a sculpted corset and a wide skirt falling in ripples around her, though one pale porcelain leg stood out from a slit in the fabric. Her hair was curled and pinned to cascade down one shoulder, and her lips and nails were painted a dark, blood red color, that perfectly matched the corsage on her wrist.

A corsage Jughead recognized before he ever saw Toni get out of the passenger side. 

The petite Serpent slipped out of the car, looking positively ethereal in a champagne colored slip gown, with simple spaghetti straps. Her hair fell in loose waves, only small braids running from her temples pinned back, with tiny glittering pins dotted all in her hair. She walked around the front of the car, linking her arm with Cheryl’s, a warm but slightly nervous smile on her face.

“Whoa, that is some imagery right there,” Veronica whispered, eyes wide as the pair came over toward them.

“Crowley and Aziraphale in stunningly attractive lesbian glory,” Jughead agreed under his breath.

“Hey guys,” Toni greeted, her hand sliding down to clasp the redhead’s. “Surprised?”

“Well, of course they’re surprised, they’re clearly struck dumb by the awe inspiring beauty of our budding romance,” Cheryl declared. “It’s a natural response.”

Veronica blinked. “It was definitely the overwhelming beauty before me, and not at all the reassessment of sexual orientation expectations,” she agreed with a nod.

“Oh my dear, sweet, sheltered Park Avenue Princess.” Cheryl reached out and gave Veronica a delicate pat on the cheek. “Never assume the factory settings. Or if you do, always go for bisexual to start, let’s not unjustly dash hopes and dreams.”

“I thought that was your idea of a good time,” Jughead muttered, earning a soft elbow in the ribs from his date.

Toni likewise gave him a deadly stare. “You said anyone was welcome.”

He raised his hands in quick surrender. “And I absolutely meant it. I’m just saying, Cheryl’s a Bathe in the Blood of Your Enemies kinda girl, I don’t think she’d disagree.”

Cheryl tilted her head to one side, as if regarding Jughead for the first time. “Too true, snakey princeling. We should talk more.”

Panic shot through his system. Most of his life had involved some level of actively avoiding conversation with any Blossom. “Should we?”

“This town is in serious need of recalibration, and since the adults are the ones fucking it up and crying about it, it’s clearly up to us to fix it.” 

“Not tonight, Red!” Sweet Pea came around from the side of the school, his arm slung around the shoulders of his date, a Serpent that didn’t attend Riverdale, named Sabrina. He was in a rumpled suit and she in a silver sequined crop top paired with a fluffy black tulle skirt and turquoise Doc Martins, her bleached blonde bob loosely curled. Jughead had hung out with Sabrina on occasion at the Wyrm, but her aunts’ house bordered Greendale, so when Southside High closed, she ended up on the list bussed over to Centerville. “Tonight, we _party_!”

“He lacks poetry, but makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm,” Jughead said, and found himself sharing a warm grin with Veronica.

A familiar pick up truck pulled into the parking lot while Sweet Pea and Sabrina made their entrance, and a moment later Fangs spilled out of the passenger seat with Kevin following him from the driver’s side. Fangs only had on a grey button up with a skinny black tie, his sleeves already rolled up to the elbows, while Kevin had a crisp dark blue suit and an exasperated expression.

“I think you started a trend,” Jughead teased. “A star crossed, wrong side of town, slumming it for love kind of trend.”

Veronica looked up at him with softness in her gaze. “I think you mean a screw the rules, Love is Love, no boundaries need apply kind of trend.”

The butterflies made a sudden reappearance in Jughead’s stomach when she said the word “love” and he didn’t try to fight them this time. He dipped his head, capturing her lips in a brief, sweet kiss, dance pictures be damned.

“For the record, I am here because if I have to stand on the sidelines at one more dance that Moose and Midge run for Prom Court, I might just kill myself,” Kevin declared as he joined the group. “I am in no way a Serpent Groupie.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Toni deadpanned.

“This is mutually agreed upon not date,” Fangs said. “Midge is driving me up a wall, I wasn’t gonna deal with that bullshit flying solo.”

“Plus this after party sounds like the absolute event of the season,” Kevin added.

The sound of Cheryl pointedly clearing her throat grabbed everyone’s attention. She stood behind the open door of her convertible, an obviously expensive bottle of mezcal held aloft in one hand. “Not that your petty microagressions aren’t terribly interesting,” she said drolly. “But it is past time to get this party fucking started. Come, my riotous revelers, let us become the night!”

As the teenagers all gathered their overnight bags and began to pile into the limousine, Jughead came up beside of Toni. “Does she seriously talk like this all the time?” 

“You really need to think about the words that come outta your mouth on a regular basis before you think to ask me that.”  
————————————————  
“So, on a scale of Better Off Dead to Pretty in Pink, how would you rate your Prom experience so far?”

Jughead blinked; he had gotten lost staring in Veronica’s direction, watching the brunette dance in a twist of limbs with Cheryl. Though he couldn’t hear her laughter from his vantage point of the proclaimed Serpents’ table, he could see the way her face lit up, and particularly enjoyed how she kept meeting his gaze across the room with a rich smirk.

“Pretty in Pink is a terrible scale for a positive outcome, she doesn’t end up with Duckie,” Jughead finally replied to Kevin’s question as the blonde took a seat beside him.

Kevin gave him a measured look. “Hate to burst your bubble, but I think you’re Molly Ringwald in this scenario.”

“... Shit I think you’re right.”

Kevin smiled sunnily in his direction, picking up a handful of pretzels from the table. “Question still stands, Andie.”

Jughead made a face. “It’s fine. Shockingly low key, even.”

“That happens when you spend most of the dance sitting on your phone at the table, not dancing with your date.”

“I have an ascetic to uphold. Besides, you haven’t been on the dance floor either.”

“ _I_ have been strategically making out with Fangs by the refreshment table, and let me tell you, Operation Jealousy is totally working.” Kevin glanced over in the direction of the dance floor, where Fangs and Toni were currently in the middle of the salsa. “Tell me, is part of the Serpent initiation make out lessons? Cause I gotta say, so far experience says Yes.”

“That’s the super secret second part of the Gauntlet, making out with every gang member, how ever did you guess?”

“Research.” Kevin popped another pretzel, then stood. “Might be time for more research, actually.”

“Sweet Pea prefers a gentle touch!” Jughead called after him.

The song changed, from a fast number that Jughead didn’t recognize to a slower one, and Cheryl released her grip on Veronica. Toni deftly spun Fangs under her arm and in the direction of Kevin before stepping to join her date, the two girls gently wrapping their arms around one another. They were objectively beautiful, both separate and together, but what truly made the image of them exquisite was the clear affection between them both. 

“Y’know, I think I like how Twitterpatted looks on Cheryl, it really tones down the crazy and brings out her eyes,” Jughead said as Veronica came up to the table.

She smiled, glancing over her shoulder back to the couple. “You’re not wrong.” Veronica reached out, taking one of his hands and giving his arm a gentle tug. “You’re up, Jones.”

“But—who’ll watch the purses?”

She rolled her eyes, but her affectionate smile stayed in place. “You’re fooling exactly no one. C’mon, asshole.”

With one last tug on his arm, she drew him out of his seat and onto the dance floor. He kept their hands linked, leaving his other hand to slip around her waist, hesitating a moment before allowing his fingertips to graze her bare back. The smooth warmth of her skin made his mind drift back to the last week’s worth of make out sessions underneath stair cases and in empty classrooms; the smell of cinnamon and spice reminded him how she tasted just a couple of hours ago; the dark sparkle in her eyes made him remember just how early the night was.

“Y’know, for someone who clearly has little interest in the ritual of dancing, you’re not half bad at it,” Veronica commented.

Jughead arched a brow, leading her through an easy spin under his arm before pulling her back in, even closer than before. “I have a proper motivator.”

They continued to dance in an easy silence; despite being a man known for his words, Jughead constantly found himself being at a loss for them around Veronica these days.

“I want to thank you, for bringing me here,” she said. “I was totally ready to hide my head in the sand, but I really needed this.”

“Well, you know, nothing says I appreciate you quite the same way that burgers do,” he replied lightly. 

Veronica’s hand slid from his shoulder up to the back of his neck, her nails lightly raking at his hairline, sending a shiver straight down his spine. “Funny,” she murmured, her gaze dropping down and lingering on his mouth. “I’ve been thinking all night about how to show my appreciation. Burgers didn’t come up.”

It didn’t seem to be a conscious decision for either of them; one moment, they were dancing, the next moment they were exiting the ballroom, slipping out onto the empty hallway that led back to the lobby of the hotel. As soon as the door clicked behind them, their mouths met in a feverish kiss, their hands running restlessly over one another. In the quiet of the hall, Jughead heard every small sigh and whispered whimper coming from Veronica, each one thrilling and unique, deserving to be burned into his memory. 

If he and Archie ever got back on speaking terms, he would have to apologize for ever giving him grief about making out in the halls. How was anyone supposed to resist the bundle of desire currently tangled in his arms? 

Jughead reluctantly broke their kiss with a ragged breath, but Veronica wasn’t deterred, her mouth immediately descending on his neck, blazing a fiery trail against his skin. His head swam with the sensation, his hands impulsively sliding down to grab her ass, pulling her tiny frame against his. 

“Screw the lake house, let’s get a room,” he groaned.

Veronica let out a breathless laugh, taking his cue to roll her hips, creating deliciously frustrating friction. “We have an obligation to our guests.”

“Let’s find a broom closet then.”

She pulled back enough to be able to meet his gaze with dark as night eyes, one brow raised sharply, undercutting her amused smile. “Closet? Classy. Very romantic.”

Whether it was the throatiness of her voice or the challenge in her eyes, he couldn’t be sure, but either way Jughead couldn’t deny the way his body responded. Deftly he twisted them both, pinning Veronica against the wall and earning a pleased gasp as his reward. He dipped his head, bringing his lips so close to her ear they occasionally grazed the pearl earring set there. He spoke in a low, heavy murmur, one hand ghosting along the edge of the fabric of her dress, fingertips skimming her bare side, his thumb dipping under the hem to brush against her breast.

“I want to worship you like a zealot; I want to whisper prayers to your beauty and wit, offer myself to your every whim. I want to memorize the book of your body with my fingers, I want to write poetry on your skin with my tongue. I want to devote myself to your pleasure, unworthy supplicant that I am, in hopes of being rewarded with the knowledge that I can give you the sweetest release, if you’ll only allow me to entreat.”

When he turned his head to read her expression, he saw Veronica’s head resting back against the wall, eyes closed, her breath coming shallow and fast. Her cheeks were flushed, and his imagination allowed him to conjure an image of just how far down her body the blush could be traveling under her dress. He shifted against her, pressing his thigh between her legs, not attempting to hide his hardness, and she let out a whimper in response, her hips bucking involuntarily into him.

“How was that for classy, Princess?”

Her eyes fluttered open, her expression almost dazed. “Jesus fucking Christ, where’s that broom closet?”

The giddy thrill of her response was short lived; no sooner had Jughead breathed out a laugh than he felt Veronica stiffen under him, her gaze clearing as she looked past him. He instinctively took a step back, his expression sending her a silent question before he turned to see what she saw.

Archie and Betty stood by the ballroom doors; he had a cascade of emotions flickering openly on his face, while hers was an oddly blank, calm mask. They looked like they stepped out of a photo shoot for some teen magazine’s version of Prom, him in a well tailored suit with his endearingly loosened tie, her in a pale pink princess gown, her golden curls piled on her head like a halo. Meanwhile Jughead and Veronica painted the picture of every teen television “bad couple”, the darkness compared to the other couple’s light, with their rumpled clothes, still panting from their exertions. Anger rippled through Jughead, irrational but undeniable—in public they had to play the part of the bad guys, the heartbreakers, but the four of them in private knew better.

“Don’t—do not even,” Jughead growled.

Everyone attempted to respond at the same time.

“That’s not fair—“

“Wait a minute—“

“Just leave—fair? We wanna talk about fair now—“

“Don’t we get to say anything?”

“No! Don’t you get it, of course you don’t!” Jughead broke away from Veronica, starting to close distance with the other couple. “Archie already used my face for a stress toy, he doesn’t get to be hurt anymore. And you—“ He stopped short with the feeling of Veronica grabbing his arm behind him, but his eyes still glared daggers in Betty’s direction. “—You lost the moral high ground so long ago it’s laughable. You hurt _us_ , Betts, you _broke us_. You have to figure out how to live with that, and it’s not our job to make it easier on you.”

For a moment a terrible silence fell, Veronica and Archie both watching Jughead and Betty. The blonde’s sea green eyes swam with unshed tears, and she bit her bottom lip to stop it’s trembling. Even after everything, the sight of Betty in pain made his heart lurch, the beauty in her sadness making his breath catch.

He hated her, for still being able to affect him so much. Her loved her, probably for the same reason. But he wasn’t in love with her, he was sure of that now, and a calm relief came from that fact.

“I do have to live with that,” Betty finally said, her voice quiet and controlled. “I live with it every waking moment and—a-and I’m sorry. We both are, we—both of us miss both of you. We wanted you to know that,” she added, a desperate sincerity to her words. Blinking back her threat of tears, she angled her head slightly, looking past her ex-boyfriend to her ex-best friend. “Don’t you?”

“We’re gonna need time, B,” Veronica replied, her voice clipped and cool, before she added, more softly. “Please give us some time.”

Betty nodded, looking as though she might say more but then swallowing it back. She met Archie’s gaze, the two of them communicating through looks alone, and another wave of relief passed through Jughead at the sight of it. They fit together, in a way he and Betty never had. He watched Archie put an arm around her shoulders, and press a tender kiss into her hair, and he thought the pain might actually end up worth it in the end. 

Archie took one last look at them both, while Betty turned her face into his shoulder, and nodded ever so slightly. Then he steered his girlfriend back to the ballroom, the opening of the doors including a burst of music, drums and lyrics spilling into the hallway.

_...that you’re broken_  
Broken like me  
Maybe that makes me a fool  
I like that you’re... 

The door clicked shut again, and with it Jughead visibly slumped on his feet, emotional exhaustion smacking him in the face. He blindly lifted up his arm, and immediately felt the warmth of Veronica nestling in against him. She let out a slow breath, her arm sliding around his waist, holding onto him tight.

“That was.... inevitable.”

He sighed. “Sorry I lost it.”

She snorted. “Umm, you didn’t pulverize anyone’s face, I’d say you held it together damn pretty well.”

“Maybe this cue’s our trip to the lake house?”

Veronica looked up at him through sooty lashes. “What about our broom closet?”

Her heavy murmur sent a shiver down his back and Jughead couldn’t resist a small grin. “You’ve got closets at the lake, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it probably feels like I’m purposefully torturing you at this point, but the prom chapter was becoming so long I decided it needed a split. Thank you to everyone that sticks with my slower updates, comments and kudos seriously motivate when I’m feeling down about my pace. Plus, next up, shenanigans at Lodge Lodge!


End file.
